Earbuds and Other Impossible Things
by Blue Seidr
Summary: "Why do you ask?" Lestrade asked warily. "He – he was wearing earbuds." John justified. Privately, though, now knowing who the boy was, he wondered if the rumors about Sherlock Holmes' sanity were true. (Rated T for paranoia)
1. Earbuds

**Hey!**

 **All I want to say this is in no way connected to my other Harry Potter/Sherlock story, this is just a oneshot idea I had. I do hope to have the next chapter of The Sorting of Sherlock Holmes up soon, but until then, here's a little present.**

 **Enjoy!**

When John saw them, he almost missed it. After all, outside the castle, they were commonplace. But here, John had never seem them before. There was simply no point, they wouldn't work. So when John saw a raven-haired Ravenclaw with sky-blue earbuds decorated with bright yellow smiley-faces jammed in his ears, he stopped in the middle of the crowded corridor and took a double take.

Yep, still there. And now as he watched, he noticed the boy's head was bobbing up and down to a beat, a hand lightly tapping out a melody against his thigh.

"John?" A voice drug John's eyes away from the Ravenclaw. He spared a second to identify the person who had spoken to him as fellow Hufflepuff prefect Greg Lestrade. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine." He hastily said before turning back to the corridor. It had begun to empty, but thankfully, John could still spot the curly head of the boy with earbuds.

"You don't look fine." Lestrade frowned.

"Do you know that boy?" John asked, pointing to the Ravenclaw just as the boy rounded a corner and gave him and Lestrade a good side profile. It was likely Lestrade would. Being the 6th year Hufflepuff prefect, he had more contacts within other houses than John did, having only been made Prefect this year.

"You mean Sherlock?" Lestrade asked.

"That was Sherlock Holmes?" John's eyebrows shot up. He had heard of Sherlock. Everyone had. He had a reputation around Hogwarts of being insane and a freak, even among John's few Ravenclaw acquaintances. Yet it was also said that on every single test, quiz, and exam, he ranked at the top of his year with a perfect score. Yes, John knew of Sherlock Holmes, but not until now was he able to put a face to the name.

"Why do you ask?" Lestrade asked warily.

"He – he was wearing earbuds." John justified. Privately, though, now knowing who the boy was, he wondered if the rumors about Sherlock Holmes' sanity were true.

"Earbuds?" Lestrade's face twisted in confusion.

"Oh, they're Muggle things. You use them to listen to things. Usually music and stuff." John quickly explained. Sometimes he forgot that Greg was a pureblood.

"Oh. Well, Sherlock is a half-blood." The older boy's relaxed.

"But they don't work here! That's why I don't have them with me." John said.

"Well, go ask him about it then." Lestrade noticed the look on John's face. "Sherlock isn't crazy. He's an arrogant twat, but he's also the smartest person in this castle, bar Professor Dumbledore and perhaps Professor McGonagall."

"Know him well, then?" John couldn't help asking.

Lestrade snorted. "Hardly. The only reason I know him any better than the rest of this lot –" Lestrade gestured to the few students still rushing to class, "- Is because whenever a particularly clever prank happens, he takes it upon himself to show up when I'm assigned to investigate and point all the (air-quote) "obvious" clues of who did it."

The prefect shook his head. "Still, every time he's pointed the finger, he's gotten the right guy. More than I can say for myself."

"So . . . "

" _So_ , Sherlock is smart enough to make these ear-things of yours work if it's at all possible. But the only way to find out about it is to _ask him_."

* * *

John paced nervously at the base of the staircase up to Ravenclaw Tower. His Hufflepuff status gained him a few odd glances from passing Eagles, but his Prefect status insured that they never turned into anything more.

He had been here since the final class of the day, speaking only to a 7th year prefect leaving the Tower as he had arrived. He had asked the lanky, greasy-haired boy whose name he could not remember (Anders? Andrew?) if Sherlock Holmes was in the Tower.

"Looking for the Freak, are ya?" The prefect had sneered. "Well, he's not here, and I wouldn't expect him to be until curfew."

Sure enough, curfew was only a few minutes away, and there had been no sign of the curly-haired Ravenclaw. The Prefect he had spoken to earlier had come back (with a smug smirk and may as well have had the words "I told you so" tattooed across his face), along with what seemed like every other Ravenclaw in the building except the one he was searching for.

Finally, at exactly one minute before 11:00, voices drifted to John's spot by the stairwell, and he stopped his pacing.

" . . . and they like to nest in plants like mistletoe and holly bushes." A female voice said, sounding passionate, but also very dazed, like she was speaking in a dream.

"Hmm. Interesting." A male voice replied, this one crisp, quick, and most definitely awake. "I'll have to investigate the matter back home during the summer. What are their dietary preferences?"

The owners of the voices rounded the nearest corner and stepped into John's line of sight. The male voice, he assumed, belonged to the very same person he was waiting for, Sherlock Holmes. John took this moment to get a good look at him. He had pale skin, like porcelain, high sculpted cheekbones that framed brilliant eyes, and was definitely one of the tallest boys in school, judging from the length of his legs. He wore the typical school robes, but they were of a neat cut with silk trimmings, and were brand new judging from the way they fit him perfectly.

The female voice had come from a girl about a head shorter than Holmes, with dirty blond hair that stretched down her back all the way to her waist and somehow seemed to glow. Her eyes were very large, giving her a surprised and absent look, the finger mindlessly twirling a stand of her hair adding to this impression. She wore some kind of root (radishes? Turnips?) as earrings, a necklace of what seemed to be butterbeer corks around her neck, and oversized male shoes that she almost walked out of every step she took.

The girl was about to reply to Holmes' question, but she caught sight of John, and instead simply said, "I think you have a guest."

Sherlock turned his eyes from the girl's face and looked John up and down as the distance between them grew to almost nothing.

"What do you want?" He bluntly asked.

John blinked. "I – I just wanted to ask you about something."

The girl he was with walked right past John and stood on the bottom step of the staircase. She look inquisitively at Sherlock, asking him a silent question.

Sherlock looked like he sorely wanted to join the girl in ascending to their common room, but he sighed and waved her on. "Go on, Luna. I won't be more than a few minutes. Begin practicing the warding charm I've been teaching you. Not on your trunk yet, though, we don't need it exploding."

"Alright, Sherlock." Luna smiled vaguely. "Have fun."

Sherlock scowled, but Luna simply continued to smile and waved good-bye to John as she turned and began to climb.

"I'll ask again." Sherlock returned to John. "What do you want? I'll inform you now, I'm not interested in doing your homework for money, candy, or protection."

"What? No, nothing like that." John waved his hands in front of him, as if to clear the air of the idea. "No, I just – I saw you earlier today, in the halls, and you were wearing earbuds."

Sherlock blinked. "Did you?"

"Yes, I did, and I wanted to ask why."

"I was listening to music." The Ravenclaw didn't say the word _Duh_ , but it was definitely implied.

"That's not possible, though."

Sherlock's lips quirked in what might have been an attempt at a smile. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a Muggle MP3 player, he earbuds wound tightly around them. Sherlock unraveled the cord, and powered the small device up. To John's shock, the MP3 didn't exploded; the screen lit up with a flash of a logo, and a menu followed it up.

Sherlock held out one of the buds, definitely smirking now. Rising to whatever challenge Holmes seemed to be throwing at him, John grabbed the earbud and positioned in his ear. Sherlock pressed a few buttons, and soon "You're the Voice" was playing inside John's ear.

"Incredible." John breathed, dropping the bud. "But how?" He asked as Sherlock began winging the buds back around the player. "It's not possible."

"Obviously it is." Sherlock tossed the evidence up before catching it and stuffing it back in his pocket. "And it's not like it was difficult. Any idiot could do it if they just thought about it."

"But how –"

"I simply converted it to run on magic-filled batteries instead of electricity. I was also able to make it so it would draw power from the magic in the air, so it never loses a charge here at Hogwarts."

"That's brilliant." John proclaimed, staring unashamed at the – the genius standing in front of him. "That's absolutely brilliant."

Sherlock blinked again, once more surprised at the Hufflepuff's reaction. "You really think so? People don't usually say that."

"Of course I do! Who could think otherwise?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Usually people just tell me to sod off."

"Well, they shouldn't." John said bluntly. "That's amazing, and you could make a whole lot of money selling those."

"Me? A salesman?" The Ravenclaw scoffed. "Boring."

"Boring?" John sputtered.

"Yes, Watson, boring. Now inventing, I could see, but this is hardly an invention, merely a modification anyone could make if they weren't so dull."

"But – wait, how do you know my name?"

Sherlock cocked his head. "The same way I know about your intent to try out for Keeper this year, your recent break up with the third girl you've dated in as many months, and the sprained ankle you got tripping over Mrs. Norris while running to the Herbology class you were late to."

 _Stupid question._ John berated himself. He kept forgetting that he was a subject of the school grapevine of gossip after being made prefect. But . . .

"Hey, I didn't tell anyone about how I sprained my ankle." John realized.

Sherlock smirked. "No, you didn't."

"Then how –"

"That would be telling, wouldn't it, Watson?" Sherlock wagged a finger.

 _Lestrade was right. Sherlock is an arrogant twat. But_ , John couldn't help adding, _he is the smartest person in this place._

"Now, if you will excuse me, it's past curfew, and I'm sure that Anderson –" A note of contempt couldn't be kept from this name, " – is waiting up just waiting to slap a detention on me."

"Oh, yeah, I met him." John assumed that this was the prefect he had talked to earlier. "He didn't seem to like you." He admitted.

Sherlock nodded. "He hasn't, not since the fall. Actually," Sherlock corrected himself, "he's never liked me, but he's hated me ever since I revealed to the common room that he's been sleeping with Professor Donavon."

John's eyes grew wide. "He has?" He had heard this rumor, but he thought that that was all there was to it – a rumor.

"Either that, or he's suddenly developed a taste for female deodorant and Professor Donavan enjoys scrubbing floors with him during his detentions that don't appear on any of the notice boards." Sherlock said smugly.

"Well," John tried to push the disturbing image out of his mind, "if he tries to give you a detention, tell him I kept you past curfew. If he still does, I'll complain and waive it."

" . . . Thank you." Sherlock said eventually.

The Ravenclaw then turned on his heel, his robes billowing dramatically in a fair impression of Professor Snape, and climbed up the stairs to the Tower without another word.

 **So? Like it, hate it? Leave a comment below, favorite, just give me some idea of how it is.**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Blue**


	2. Ducks

**A little thought I had, inspired by a post I saw on Pinterest. I also like the idea of continuing this as a collection of loosely connected oneshots. No promises on regular updates or lengths, just the occasional anecdotal about John Watson and Sherlock Holmes at Hogwarts.**

 **For anyone who reads The Sorting of Sherlock Holmes, I apologize for the lack of chapters, Sherlock hasn't been cooperating lately. Shocker.**

 **Anyway, onwards.**

"Well, well, well, look who we have here."

This was not what John wanted to hear at the moment. He had been up for far too long last night at the encouragement of his dorm mates, celebrating his acceptance onto the Quidditch Team as the Keeper, overslept, had to skip breakfast the next day, and still got points taken off for being late to Transfiguration. Not a happy day.

Coupled with the fact he had patrol that night with the Gryffindor prefects and Molly Hopper so he couldn't even go to bed early this night, and you got one tired Hufflepuff. So you could understand that when he reached the second floor on his round before curfew, he wasn't in the best state of mind for springing into action.

He had just reached the bottom of the staircase from the Divination Tower and was about to round the corner when he heard the voice. Cautiously, he peeked his head out to observe the scene.

The speaker was a tall student with broad shoulders, a buzz cut, and Gryffindor red accents on his robes. His wand was held out, and although all John could see of the teenager was his back, he would have bet good money that he was also sporting a nasty smile.

He wasn't alone either. With him were two very familiar figures that John hadn't seen since their first meeting.

"God, could you get anymore cliché? If you're going to threaten us, at least put some effort into it." Sherlock bemoaned, his own wand held up as well. Luna stood with him, her wand at the ready, but Sherlock had placed himself half a step in front of her in a vaguely protective stance.

Other than a slight tensing of his shoulder muscles, the Gryffindor gave no sign of hearing Sherlock's remark. "The weirdos of Hogwarts; Loony and Sher-freak."

Sherlock scoffed, his eyes rolling. "Sher-freak? Five years and that's the best you can come up with? I'm in awe, Moran, truly I am."

Even from his poor vantage point, John could see the white knuckles that indicated Moran's death grip on his wand. Suddenly, John couldn't help but feel a bit irritated at Sherlock. Could he _not_ antagonize the boy further? It certainly wasn't helping his situation.

"Are you done with the petty insults? Personally, I find them dreadfully dull. So let's cut to the chase, shall we? This isn't Jim's style. A rough beat down in the middle of an empty corridor? Nah, this is too . . . obvious. And you and me both know how much Jim hates being obvious."

"Think you're so clever, don't ya, Freak?" Moran growled.

"Of course I do." Sherlock didn't miss a beat. "Have I struck a nerve? I'm right, aren't I? This isn't Jim at all. This is all _you_. Trying to redeem yourself from your little screw-up last year, I'd bet. Showing Moriarty that you can be his favorite boot-licking dog. And you decided the best way to do that was to beat up Sherlock Holmes and his little girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend, Sherlock?" Luna asked pleasantly.

"No, but I assume that's what Moran thinks you are to me."

"Ah, I see. The Wrackspurts have gotten into his head, haven't they?" Luna frowned sympathetically at the Gryffindor.

"I'm afraid so, Luna." Sherlock pouted condescendingly at Moran. "It's only a matter of time before they completely cloud his mind so thoroughly that he won't ever think right again. Not much time at all, really, since he had such little brainpower to begin with."

Apparently, this was all Moran would take from them, because it was at this moment he let out an enraged snarl and screamed, "Stupefy!"

"Protego!" Luna said firmly, the red light from Moran dissipating harmlessly against a blue tinted shield.

Sherlock wasted no time following up the attack. "Anaticula!" He swished his wand, but nothing appeared to happen.

Moran laughed cruelly at Sherlock's lack of success. "Flippendo!" He shouted.

The Knock-Back Jinx. It should have sent Sherlock or Luna flying end over end, no matter what kind of shield they tried to throw up. But instead . . . .

"Quack!"

A yellow ball of fluff and feathers sat in between the two forces. For a moment, neither side made a move.

"Flippendo!" Moran cried again. "Flippendo! Flippendo!"

Duck. Duck. Another duck.

Luna kneeled to the ground and waved her wand, conjuring bread crumbs onto the floor in front of her and cooing softly to the four ducklings. They waddled over to her and bombarded the food. Luna delicately rubbed the downy little heads.

"Sherlock! Can we keep them?" The girl smiled.

Moran seemed to have a different opinion. "You freak! What did you do to my wand?!"

"The Anaticula Jinx. Every spell preformed will simply conjure up a duck. You could toss a Killing Curse my way and the best you could hope for is that one of the ducks would bit me. Oh don't worry." Sherlock waved a hand. "It should wear off in about 24 hours or so. No counter-jinx, most likely because no one thought a prank spell was worth the effort to counter."

The Gryffindor growled and shoved his now useless wand into his robes. "Then I'll rip you freaks apart with my bare hands!" Moran roared, charging down the corridor.

Sherlock lifted his wand once more and opened his mouth to fire out another spell, but –

"Offendimus!" John shouted, a lightning fast stream of clear light wrapping itself around Moran's ankles and sending him falling across the rough cobblestone floor.

Sherlock wasted no time. "Petrificus Totalus!" Moran froze in place, hands halfway through the act of pushing himself up.

John walked over to him, sidestepping the ducklings that had lost interest in Luna, his wand still held loosely in his hand.

"I had him." Sherlock said simply.

"I know. I thought I should stop before you did something that got you in trouble. Not a huge fan of people getting in trouble for self-defense."

"Oh." Sherlock blinked. "Then – that was good."

"Thank you, John." Luna said, a duckling cradled in her arms, pecking at loose threads on her shirt.

"You're welcome." John stared at the duck. It didn't go unnoticed by Sherlock.

"They'll vanish in an hour or so. They're transfigured from molecules in the air, so they don't hold very stable forms." Sherlock brushed away the worry John had had that he would have to go duck hunting for the ones that had already escaped down the stairs behind him.

"I've never heard of that spell before." John said.

"Found it in a book back home. Thought it would come in handy one day."

"Right. Well, you guys should head back to your dorms. I'm going to call Professor McGonagall, and I'd rather you weren't here. I can say he was bullying a couple of younger students I didn't know and that they ran when I dealt with him." John glanced down at the immobile form of Moran, the only part of him moving his brown eyes, filled with hate.

"Good suggestion. Come along, Luna." Sherlock began to stalk down the corridor towards the Ravenclaw Tower.

Luna smiled sincerely at John. "You're a good friend. Sherlock needs that." She said, before following in her fellow Ravenclaw's footsteps.

 _Friend?_ John thought. They had only met twice. Who would call them friends? Not Sherlock, certainly, if the rumors were to be believed. But then he thought of a better question.

"Are you ever gonna tell me what this actually was?" John asked down the hall. He would bet his last galleon that this wasn't some random schoolyard petty fight. The mention of an incident last year, some guy called Jim and a Moriarty . . . It all hinted at something more. Something big.

Sherlock turned around, tilting his head curiously at him. The look in his eyes was one John couldn't quite pin, but it made him feel transparent, like Sherlock was looking straight through him and noticing everything about him.

Then he smiled, and it was an enigmatic half-twitch of pale pink lips. "Perhaps." And with that parting remark, he and his companion were gone.

 **Yes, I know it's short.**

 **Thoughts? Like it? Hate it? Have a situation that you want to see happen? I take prompts and critique.**

 **Have a nice day/night!**

 **Blue Seidr**


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